Acadia National Park, Part Two

Acadia stuck me as a mirror to the Everglades: one has to find the majesty in subtly. Nothing particularly took my breath away, yet there was much to enjoy at a micro level. We did get up early enough to see the sunrise from Cadillac Mountain, albeit not from the top. Rather than parking in the west lot and hoofing it up to the summit, we opted to retreat a little down and used a pullout all to ourselves. We sat on boulders, having the truck as a wind barrier. It was our second time up the mountain, so we weren’t concerned about walking around on the paths at the top.

We took a carriage ride with Mike as our guide and his granddaughter Sally driving most of the time. Horses Charlie and Charmer did the work, pulling the wagon on roads built by John D. Rockefeller, Jr., beginning, I believe, in 1904, continuing until the start of World War II. Mike claimed his operation of 26 horses puts $100,000+ each year into the Mount Desert economy, hiring locals to work in the barns and drive the teams and buying local hay for the herd. The horses only work 3-4 days a week, and only up to 3 hours a day. Mike was full of lore and some gossip, all of which he claimed as true.

One morning we drove to to Precipice Trail to see fledgling peregrine falcons and their parents, but everyone was hidden from the ranger’s scopes, blending in perfectly with the cliff rocks. Their nest looked like an osprey nest, tucked onto a ledge. We drove onto Echo Lake Beach, where loons had a nest on a platform in the lake. According to the ranger, for some reason, the pair had not incubated their eggs. The male had nested there for 7 or 8 years (he had a band, so he is identified), but the female was new. His previous mate had not returned. That morning, the pair had swum down the lake, so nowhere in sight. I did catch a glimpse of a loon trailed by 2 ducklings on a lake on the drive over, but at a narrow stretch of road with no place to stop.

We walked along Pretty Marsh in the conifers, then took the stairs down to the beach. Only a couple of other people were this far west, away from the hubbub of the trails along the eastern shores. There, by mid morning, the shore path was almost solid with walkers. The Park Service has made that whole half of the Loop Road one way, heading south. Parking is allowed all along in the right hand lane, effectively doubling or tripling the parking, which fills quickly. We drove the loop twice, but opted not to stop amidst the crowds. We could go slow enough to enjoy the rocky beach views, especially when a car ahead of us waited for another car to leave and use the space.

After being up pre-dawn to see the sunrise, we returned to camp, had breakfast, then drove over to Bar Harbor by 10:00, early enough to find a parking space at the pier. We walked along the shore to Balance Rock and the end of that shore path, then up through town and along all the stores. A pair of deer were eating in one yard. Explains the deer fencing around the vegetable gardens. At first, someone shouted, “Moose!”, but I knew it wasn’t  I’d already had a chat with a ranger about the odds of seeing a moose. Zero, since she said the whole island didn’t have enough habitat to sustain one. Saved me a lot of looking.

I’d rate Bar Harbor as obsessively neat and clean as Key Biscayne but catering to tourists, with KB could not abide. More like Key West but with less early drinking and higher toned t-shirts for sale. There are rugosa roses everywhere with bumblebees and other pollinators enjoying them. I first noticed these flowers at Portland Head Light where I particularly enjoyed their scent mixed with the smell of the ocean. I wish there were a native rose I could grow in Florida, but there doesn’t seem to be one, according to my native plant expert friends. (In the 1950s, my family took the ferry from Bar Harbor to Nova Scotia on our camping trip through the Maritime provinces. I remember seeing lots of jellyfish in the water. Perhaps Grant and I will make that trip next year.)

For Grant’s birthday, we ate at Abel’s Lobster Pound, he had the lobster dinner. I choose the lazy man’s lobster, which was already removed from the shell and served on grits with a little watercress on top, in case one needed a token salad. I enjoyed one piece of cornbread and, I’m sad, left the second piece I’d wrapped to bring home. Drink was Battery Steele Flume IPA, which waitress Raelle and I enjoyed calling “Flumé”. 

We’ve drunk local IPA’s this whole trip, almost always draft, always good. Another night, we ate at Beagle’s Lobster Pier in Southwest Harbor, Grant with another dinner plus 1/2# of mussels, and my opting again for letting others do the work by ordering a traditional lobster roll. Anything lobster is at market price, about $40/pound. On the carriage ride, Mike said in the 1800’s, lobsters were so low class they were fed to prisoners and that indentured servants’ contracts insured they wouldn’t be fed lobster more than 2 times per week. Makes me wish we had the fish the upper class was eating. Must have been delicious.

Since Blackwoods Campground didn’t have a kitchen sink to wash dishes, just a grey water disposal drain, we decided to cook during the day rather than fooling with dishes at night. Plus use mostly paper plates and bowls, not our usual camping plan. First up was our traditional toad in a hole eggs and potatoes with sausage I bought at the Milkhouse Farmstore when we were still on the birding trip. Andy, a high school buddy of our guide Alex, has owned the farm for 7 years and farms dairy cows, pigs who run in the woods, and free range chickens. As he said, stop by anytime, he’ll be there. Good that a young family can make a go of farming. Actually, amazing, but they seem to be glad they are there. Another meal, Grant made penne with pesto sauce and a bag salad we’d bought at the grocery store. One lunch, I cooked pancakes and bacon. The rest of the time, it was turkey or PBJ sandwiches or hummus and chips. No dishwashing.  

The weather was perfect with temperatures in the 50s at night and 60s during the day. We’d been warned of rain, but only a slight drizzle one night. Until our last full day! Then it rained all afternoon. Fortunately, the rain stopped by night, so the tent, screen room, and rain fly were only slightly damp when we had to break camp the next morning. We can dry out when we get home.